What did we learn today, Donnie?
by Drake Rhapsody
Summary: "What did we learn today, Donnie?" "Eh… that I shouldn't test alien ooze on myself?" A silly idea that came to me seeing one of the trailers from "TMNT: Out of the Shadows". I wrote it weeks ago and now I'm translating it to English. Bear with my mistakes, please.


**When I saw the second trailer of TMNT: Out of the Shadows, there was a scene that had my whole attention, of course because it was pretty stupid.**

 **Let's see, we've been told that Donatello is the intelligent one, the scientist, he's supposed to have some kind of scientific method of testing things that doesn't imply DROPPING SOME MUTAGEN ON HIS HAND AND WAIT 'TILL SOMETHING HAPPENS. What the hell?**

 **Well, I suppose in the movie there will be some testing before…**

 **It's not likely that what I'm writing will happen in the movie, but whatever, I wanted to write it anyway. Sorry, Donnie.**

 **Hey there, I'm Drake Rhapsody and, on the very day of "Out of the Shadows" release (it was that day when I first wrote this in Spanish, anyway), I bring to you (probably with many grammar mistakes, please let me know about them):**

 **What did we learn today, Donnie?**

At first, when he let the little drop of mutagen fall over the bare skin of his hand, he felt nothing.

Then, a tremor started to shake his limb.

From the exact point where the drop made contact, little lines of pins and needles numbed his hand and his three fingers.

Then, there were five.

He moved the alien limb around, looking at his two new fingers with awe.

".. It could turn us into humans" he finished the phrase he started before.

Michelangelo gazed that almost human hand with open eyes and his mouth slightly ajar in a mute exclamation. The family genius was convinced that he knew exactly what was going on inside his little brother's head:

"If we were humans, we wouldn't have to hide down here anymore" said the orange-clad turtle, confirming all of his theories.

The hand remained in the middle of the circle for all of them to see; five long fingers that flexed one by one as Donatello tried the joints.

"Fascinating…" muttered the young genius.

"Can you make more, Don?" asked Raphael.

"I can try" said the purple-clad turtle estimating his options. "It is an alien substance, completely different from anything in our whole system, an unknown element. It probably contains something similar to stem cells, capable of replicate organelles and cellular tissue from the originals… I'd like to run a few tests, you know… to be sure that this is safe for the long run."

Leonardo, who hadn't opened his mouth during the whole procedure, looked at him in disbelief:

"Did you just poured something you didn't even know it was safe over yourself?" admonished him harshly. "Are you nuts? I thought you were the brains here, Donnie!"

"Hey, don't pick on him" Michelangelo stood up for him immediately. "Donnie knows what he's doing, aren't you Donnie?

Donatello diverted his gaze because he knew his oldest brother was right.

It wasn't the first time, though, that he tested something in his own flesh; what other way had he to know how some substances reacted?

He stared at his five fingered hand, eager to see how the new appendages worked. He knew all the theory and he ached to put everything he knew about human hands in practice.

…

That night, over a few pizzas at April's, and after explaining Donatello's quasi-human hand to her, some strategies to deal with the new mutants were put on the table for discussion.

Raphael, of course, wanted to face them head-on, without hesitations, without plans and without bullshit.

Michelangelo's plans were more and more absurd every time he opened his mouth with a new idea, and Leonardo's tactics relied too much on the stealthy-like-shadows-in-the-night part for his brothers liking.

Donatello remained quiet, and not because he didn't have any ideas on his mind; since that afternoon, his left hand had started to trouble him. First, it was a slight tremble that Donatello assumed was due to his usual lack of sleep. Then, minor needle-like pangs. He didn't pay attention either, until the frequency and intensity of them amplified itself, and he couldn't close his fingers around his tool, thanks to the tremor.

He didn't even know how he managed to climb the ladder to April's window an hour before.

For the moment, with his brothers sitting around her table, the only thing that came to his mind was to hide his hand under it, not wanting to scare them; he would deal with the problem as soon as they returned home, for there was no need to give them a scare.

When the pain from the pangs started to feel like a _tazzer_ , Donatello bit the inside of his lip, focusing on isolating the pain, just as Splinter taught him.

It wasn't an easy task, mainly because the tremor was causing the table to quake slightly. Fortunately, everyone thought it was Michelangelo's inability to stay put and no-one looked under to see who was actually moving it.

"Donnie?"

He shook his head and looked up. He became aware that April had asked him something, and searched desperately for some clue in her gaze that could tell him what.

April noticed it and cocked her head to the side, worried:

"Are you OK?"

He nodded and was going to say something else when a sudden pang made him frown and wrinkle his nose for just a second. If the young woman hasn't been looking at him, that little gesture would have gone unnoticed.

"Donatello!" called April, getting up to run by his side. "Is your hand, isn't it?"

Silence came over them, and Donatello started to feel uncomfortable.

" 'm fine…" he said, but April didn't believe him.

"Show it to me, Don" she demanded, like a mother who asks his son to show her his hands to see if they were clean.

Knowing that that was a very childish act, the turtle showed her his hand. The right.

"Nice move, Smart-ass. Now cut the bullshit, will ya?" grunted Raphael and pulling Donatello's left hand, brought it into the light.

Even Michelangelo seemed to forget his pizza.

The limb was swollen, trembling and crisscrossed by little veins and tendons because of the efforts his owner was doing to free himself.

"You call _that_ being 'fine'?" asked his red-clad brother.

Donatello freed his arm with a violent jerk and got up, clenching his jaws to avoid crying out in pain. The chair fell backwards.

"I'm fine!" he blurted. "It's nothing; I'll fix this as soon as we're back in the Lair…"

"Of course you're gonna fix it" retorted Leonardo. "We're leaving now. Don!" he scolded when his brother opened his mouth to object. "I said now. Mikey, call Master Splinter, tell him to prepare the Needle Room."

"On it!"

April opened the window and moved out of the way, letting Leonardo go first. She watched with a hint of sadness how the leader checked the dark street below, searching for any potential foe and planning the safest route to the nearest manhole.

"Can I go with you?" she asked. "Maybe you could use my help…"

The truth was she didn't want to stay alone, not with all that was happening in the city: the Hockey-Masked Vigilante, the two new mutants, Karai, Shredder's return…

Leonardo returned her gaze and shook slowly his head.

" _Sensei?_ " was saying Michelangelo to the phone at that precise moment. "We're heading home, we had a little problem…"

"Sorry April, but you're safe here" answered the leader. Then he turned his head to his brothers. "This isn't going to be pretty, and I don't want you to see it."

Suddenly, like a jinx, Donatello let go a strangled sound and doubled over, pressing his left hand against his plastron.

Michelangelo dropped the phone, forgetting to end the call. The device received and retransmitted efficiently to the other side of the line the ruckus of voices and feet that ran:

"Don?!"

"Donnie!"

Donne collapsed to his knees and he would have fallen face first on the floor if it hadn't been for Michelangelo; slipping through April and his brother's bodies, he kneeled beside Donatello and grabbed him by his shoulders:

"Answer me, man!" cried the turtle in fear. "Are you alright?"

"No" breathed the young genius. "Burns… like hell."

The next wave of pain brought tears to his eyes. He blinked and bit his lower lip, trying to keep himself from screaming. His head was running through all the anomaly things he had studied about the purple ooze. Formulas and calculations blended together on his mind, possible combinations and reactions, all of them to conclude…

"What can we do?" asked Leonardo. "Tell us what to do to help you…"

… That there was nothing to do for the moment.

Except keep holding on.

Still being held by Michelangelo, he turned to look at his oldest brother who, despite his usual stoicism, was about to lose his composure.

"N-nothing" he tried to say. "We can't do anything… I gue- ARG!" he clutched his wrist harder and hissed as the pain weakened slightly and got ready to return. "I… guess t-that we'll… just… oh goddamit, it HURTS. Just wait 'till… it wears o-OH, FUCK."

He turned his head violently to the side, reaching for the straps of leather that kept his pack on his shell. He bit them and let yet another strangled cry between his teeth.

That was the first time someone heard a curse escape from Donatello's mouth, but wasn't the last he spat between clenched teeth during that night.

All the plans forgotten, the family (including their _Hogo'sha_ ), surrounded Donatello, every one of them suggesting something to ease the pain. And Donatello, kneeling on the floor, shook his head, too busy holding his cries to tell them he didn't know what effect could cause mixing up any analgesic with the purple mutagen. Best case scenario, it would be ineffective. Worst case, he could explode for all he knew.

And his hand was visibly worsening; it shook uncontrollably, swollen and burning to the touch. The two fingers that the mutagen had geminated from his own were starting to approach the limb they came from.

It was slow torture; minutes later, the skin was fusing slowly while Donatello made enormous efforts not to cry. Breathing hard, he leaned his head on Michelangelo's shoulder.

When his lower lip –which the turtle have been biting with all his might–, started to bleed, someone opened his mouth by force and put a wooden spoon between his teeth.

Flesh fusion was worse than skin's. Now it wasn't just his hand trembling; his whole body was shaken by violent spasms. April, who had his friend's right hand between hers, stifled a cry and tried to jerk one of them out of his grasp when the turtle, feeling the intense agony of another wave of searing pain, squeeze it so tightly she thought he just broke every single bone of her hand.

"Don!" cried out, holding back the tears. Greenish-brown eyes looked wide open at her over Michelangelo's shoulder, and the young woman realized how his hand released hers… to clench itself over his brother's shell, nails digging deep into his palm. A single drop of blood surfaced between his knuckles. "Donnie, sweetheart, hold on… deep breaths… come on, you can do it…" she held his face wet with tears and sweat on her hands, preventing him to advert his gaze again. "Look at me… Don… Donnie… look at me!"

Michelangelo kept hugging his purple-clad brother, patting softly his shell and whispering shooting words, trying to be heard over the pained yells.

Suddenly, when it looked like the worst was done, the bones started to fuse.

The spoon between his teeth cracked and broke.

Donatello went rigid in his brother's arms and remained that way for ten agonizing seconds.

Then, the entire neighborhood shook with a barely human pained howl.

Michelangelo screamed when his brother, who was no longer capable of thinking or reasoning, sank his teeth on his shoulder, seeking relief from his agony.

"MIKEY!"

"DONNIE!"

Raphael and Leonardo shouted at the same time, both names mixed together making it nearly impossible to know who shouted which one. The two brothers broke their two little brothers apart and pressed Donatello's shell to the floor, getting a hold on his arms and legs, almost crushing his plastron, preventing him of doing any further damage to himself or others.

Michelangelo stepped aside bringing a hand to the bleeding mark of all his brother's teeth on his shoulder. The only thing April could do, was bring her hands to her mouth to try to keep his sobs and tears at bay.

"What's happening here?" exclaimed a voice from the open window.

Neither Raphael nor Leonardo could hear his master over the deafening shrieks Donatello was emitting, but April did. She turned to Splinter with tears in her pleading eyes, but the rodent had already took charge of the situation; he rose his two front paws and dipped two fingers on various points behind Donatello's head, between his shoulders and alongside his left arm.

The shriek of pain died inside the young genius' throat. His eyes rolled back into his head seconds before his eyelids fell over them and the turtle's body went limp on the living room's floor.

Slowly, his two brothers loosened their hold on him. Raphael's hand moved swiftly over his neck, searching for a pulse, ready to restrain him again if necessary. A tiny amount of bloodied saliva trickled down the corner of Donatello's mouth.

When the red-clad turtle nodded with a sigh of relief, the sudden silence that had taken over the room came to an end; April burst into tears, pressing both hands into her mouth to hold back the hysterical sobs, and Michelangelo allowed himself a wail of pain, bringing a hand to the bite wound on his shoulder.

Splinter kneeled beside the unconscious turtle and wiped the blood of his lip with the edge of his long sleeve. Then, removing the goggles, he caressed his forehead.

"Wha… what did you do to him?" asked April when she was calm enough to put more than two words together.

"Pressure points" said the rodent simply. Then, he turned back to his firstborn: "What happened?"

While Leonardo explained that, Raphael and Michelangelo took his brother's arms and legs and, following April's directions, laid him down on the sofa. The young woman watched the process with a heavy heart; never since she knew them have she seen Donatello like that: the genius' arms and legs, usually so accurate and well-aimed, hung now limp like the limbs of a rag doll. Barely hearing Raphael asking for the first-aid kit, she pointed distantly with her finger and kneeled on the floor, by the genius turtle's head.

She took his glasses off carefully, pinning them in the hem of her blouse, in order not to lose them. After that, she loosened every strap and belt that kept his various devices attached to his arms, legs, waist and even his shell. He couldn't take off his bag pack because it was trapped between his back and the sofa, but she let loose the straps that kept it fastened on his shoulders.

Finally, she took off his purple band, leaving him only in his cargo pants.

Slowly, as if afraid to cause him more pain, she took his left hand and placed it across his plastron, to see its progress; it was swollen and trembled slightly. In addition, his fingers still had two nails, but it was almost normal by now.

"Oh, Donnie…" she whispered, and graced his forehead with her fingertips. "You gave us quite a scare…"

…

There was something cold pressed to his temple. Something cold and wet.

I was uncomfortable, so he turned slightly his head and moaned.

"Shhh…" said a voice next to him. "Easy, Donnie…"

"April?" he muttered, and opened his eyes.

The morning light that entered fully into the reporter's flat made him close them again. By reflex, the turtle started to raise his left hand to cover his face, but a light pang stopped him.

"Wha…?" he yelped, and suddenly everything that had happened last night came to him. "How… how many fingers do I have?" he asked, not daring to look.

April giggled and took his hand in hers.

"I should be asking you that question" she teased him, but never with bad-bone. Carefully, she lifted his hand before his eyes. "See? Three fingers, as always. The swelling should decrease within two hours."

He blinked, but only saw a green blur being held by another two smaller blurs.

"Oh, sorry!" realized April, and Donatello saw how the young woman's foggy form unhooked something from the front of her blouse. "I forgot I still have your glasses… there, see?" she said, sliding them back in their place.

With his vision recovered, Donatello stared at his hand for a few seconds and then muttered:

"My brothers…"

"They're in my former flat mate's room, asleep."

"Oh…" Donatello closed his eyes again and breathed deeply. He felt his pulse on his temples, the same pace that on his left hand. "I have a fever, haven't I?" he asked. "Fever or migraine… no, my head doesn't hurt so much… a fever more likely"

April caressed the back of his hand:

"Correct, as always" smiled. "It broke an hour ago, now you only have a slight temperature. You'll be up and fixing things in no time, I'm sure"

The corners of his mouth turned slightly upwards, matching the gentle smile of the young woman.

She wringed out the cloth and put it again on his forehead:

"What did we learn today, Donnie?" she asked, mimicking those shows for kids who always ask that at the end of each episode.

"Eh… that I shouldn't test alien ooze on myself?" he answered with a half grin that looked more like a silent apology.

April nodded.

"I would add that, in case you've been stupid enough to do that, you must tell your family something is wrong" she punched him on the shoulder, so lightly he barely felt it. "But it's enough for me."

The quietness reigned for a while, allowing Donatello to hear the distant noise of the cars down the street, of people chatting and birds singing. He felt the light of the sun, so nice and warm, coat one half of his face.

 _If we were human we could wake up like this every morning_ , he thought.

But he didn't say it out loud. Instead, he turned his head to the side and muttered:

"I'm an idiot"

April frowned and caressed his cheek:

"Don't say that…"

"I should have studied the substance more before doing anything stupid" replied he. "But I… I thought… I mean, Mikey… we…"

Right away, April's hands made him turn his gaze to her.

"To err is human, Don" she said, very serious. "Everything is good now, don't torture yourself…"

"No, you don't understand…" he muttered, clearly hurting. He got up slowly until he was sitting straight on the sofa. Immediately, the reporter sat to his right. "I was so… anxious to see if that mutagen could truly turn us into humans that I… bypassed the whole scientific procedure. I'm an idiot." He repeated.

April just looked at him with a lump in her throat.

She have heard Michelangelo talk about being humans a thousand times. Raphael rarely did, but sometimes he dropped a comment that betrayed his feelings about that matter.

And every time his two brothers talked about the subject, Leonardo reminded them that they were turtles, nothing more, nothing less, and they couldn't change that fact.

For a long time, April believed Donatello to be on the same page as the young leader, but now she realized the genius was just resigned to his mutant nature because being humans was a hopeless dream.

Now there was a way to change what they were, a tiny scrap of hope, a faint promise of a life where they wouldn't be condemned to live as outcasts the rest of their lives.

"Donnie…" she whispered, heartbroken, incapable of saying anything else. She did the only thing she could do: she took his good hand on hers and squeezed it lightly. Donatello squeezed back and smiled faintly:

"Don't worry, April" he muttered. "It's nothing."

They remained silent for a while. Donatello kept looking at his hand, slowly moving it, flexing his three fingers to check if, after last night, it was still fully functional.

Letting out a sigh and not letting his right hand go, April leaned into his friend's shoulder. He was tall, so she didn't have to crook her head to do so. Donatello looked at her with fondness.

"Sometimes I forget how lucky we are" he said.

She turned slightly her head to look into his eyes, blue over greenish-brown.

"Why?"

"You"

She blushed and Donatello bursted out laughing, making her laugh too when he let the first snort escape his nose.

"I'm serious!" protested the turtle when they calmed down a bit. "Just… look at yourself! You have three mutant turtles in your guest room and you're not losing your head. You're here, sitting with me as if I was…" he didn't finished the sentence. Instead, he sighed heavily and shook his head. "I mean, the possibilities of meeting someone who didn't run screaming to call some 51 Area specialists were like 0'0000000000000000000000001%... And here you are."

April smiled:

"You are my best friends, Donnie" she replied, "and I will always treat you like that, whether you are turtles, human beings or pink flappy unicorns. Anyone who cry in fear seeing you… they just don't know what they're missing"

Donatello's shoulder trembled slightly when he chuckled a little, barely emitting any sound.

"Thank you" he said, and the reporter saw that his greenish-brown eyes where wet behind the glasses.

"Thank you indeed, for your kind words, April" said a voice from the door.

" _S-sensei_!" exclaimed Donatello jumping in his seat. He yanked his hand from April's, used it to swiftly dry his eyes behind his glasses and stood up like a child caught red-handed. "What are you doing here?"

"Why, looking after my sons, of course. Especially when some of them seem to be incapable of taking proper care of themselves" replied the rodent, and his son adverted his gaze to the floor, anticipating the huge reprimand that was coming.

However, Splinter went first to talk to the young reporter.

"We are so grateful for your hospitality, but I'm afraid that we'll need to abuse a little bit more." He looked to the window, which poured daylight into the room. "I can reach the sewers without draw any attention, but my sons are too big to do so, and also not so stealthy."

From next room they heard a thunderous snore followed by a loud thump.

"MIKEY!" Raph's voice could be heard. "Get your foot outta my face or I'll cut it out!"

"Not my fault, not my fault! Leo pushed me! Don't get mad Ra-aaaaagh!"

"Would you two shut it? I'm trying to sleep!"

Splinter shook his head and covered his face with a pawn:

"Bless the heavens for my patience…" he sighed.

Donatello let a strange noise that sounded like a cough covering a giggle.

His master glared at him:

"I do not know what is it that you found so funny" he scolded him. "As soon as we are all back home you are going straight to the _hashi_ to pay for the scare you give us all."

That erased the smile from the purple-clad turtle's face, who was tempted to just lie down again and pretend he still had a bad fever.

"But I'm glad you're ok, my son" said softly Master Splinter, bringing his paw to his son's arm. "I'm sure you have learned your lesson."

" _Hai, sensei…_ "

"Good" nodded the rodent. "However, you're still grounded. It's time for me to return to the Lair. I hope you and your brothers follow me as soon as it gets dark enough."

And with that, he jumped from the window to the staircase and went down it, noiseless.

Donatello noticed his gear was in a heap in the corner. While April turned on the toaster and searched for bread in her cupboard, he started to put all back where it belonged, adjusting the straps and belts, checking his devices. And his stubborn brain kept thinking about the purple ooze.

"Neither Rocksteady nor Bebop seem to be suffering from regressions to his previous form" he said out loud, and April glared at him with a frown. "What if… what if the amount of mutagen wasn't enough? What if Stockman synthesized the ooze somehow? If I make some changes in the formula I might… maybe…"

"Don, stop" Raphael entered the room and sat at the table, arms crossed. "None of us want to be human if it means you spending another night like the last one."

Leonardo and Michelangelo entered the room, mimicking his brother. Seeing that his immediate younger brother was about to protest, the red-clad turtle kept talking:

"We've already talked about this; all that bullshit of dropping crap on you and wait 'till something happens… it has to end now."

"Yeah, man" added Michelangelo. "No more scares like yesterday, okay?"

He raised a bit his arm and Donatello saw the dressing held in place by some tape on his shoulder. He opened his mouth to apologize but his brother spoke first:

"Don't you dare, Donnie" he said with a broad smile. "From now on, and if it scars, the official version will be that I was attacked by a shark."

"A shark would have uprooted your arm, Mikey, not just leave a scar…" answered Donatello, smiling too.

Suddenly Michelangelo changed the expression of his face and dropped his eyes to the floor.

"I shouldn't have been so annoying with all the 'I want to be human' subject" he whispered.

Leonardo sighed and shook his head, and Raphael rolled his eyes:

"Mikey, we've already talked about this… it wasn't your fault if…" he started, but his elder brother tapped him lightly on the shoulder to silence him.

Donatello noticed the guilt in his little brother's eyes and leaned his hand on his good shoulder.

"It isn't your fault…"

"But it is!" Mikey replied. "You're always fixing everything I ask you, Donnie. Maybe if I hadn't said anything…"

"Mikey, I would do anything for you and you know it." Donatello cut him out and looked him in the eye. "But this is also about me. I'm gonna continue investigating it. I will find a way to go up to these streets without anybody running to the cops, I promise. I promise _you_ , Mikey."

"You said it" grunted Raphael biting his toast.

Leonardo frowned but remained silent; he didn't want to be the one to break the huge grins across his two youngest brothers.

The five of them sat around the table to have a well-deserved breakfast and, for the rest of the day, no-one talked about mutagen, a possible alien apocalypse or the Shredder.

Donatello knew that his promise may never be fulfilled. Probably they will have to find another way to earn the respect of New York City.

Probably they'll never make it.

But, what the hell… Let a Mutant Ninja Turtle dream!

We owe them that, isn't it?

 **Well, I saw the film, laughed a lot and my final conclusion is: definitely much better than the 1st one! I'm not spoiling anything, don't worry… but I keep thinking about Donnie and I feel like he doesn't voice his opinions to his family very often, so the conversation with April I wrote isn't out of character… I hope. Maybe I'll write something more about Donatello (He's my favorite turtle after all!).**

 **Well, I hope you liked this little fic.**

 **See ya!**

 **Drake Rhapsody**

 **P.S.: Holy shell, I just read it again and I found so many mistakes I wanted to cry… I think I've corrected the majority of them… I hope. (19/07/2016)**


End file.
